If Colt ever lays eyes on Slade…
Damn it.
All I can do is hope Slade will accept that our mutually beneficial relationship has come to a screeching halt. Hopefully, he’ll be ready to move on with someone else.
After my shower, I note the bruises on my neck when I peer at myself in the bathroom mirror. The bruises are faint, it’s the placement of the marks that’s the problem. There’s no mistaking they’d come from a man’s hand.
I glare at them.
I could cover them with makeup, but then my clients might assume I’m hiding hickeys. I suppose that’s better than the truth, but I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m a grown-ass woman, and hickeys are a thing of the past.
Maybe I could snag an infinity scarf from Harper. I’ve seen her wear a few when the temperature outside has cooled. With that decided, I lean closer to the mirror and inspect my lip. Red lipstick is nothing new for me, so I might be able to camouflage the small cut. Now that I have a plan in mind, I quickly dry off and change.
Thankfully, I don’t run into anyone on my way out of the house, and then I’m in my pale blue, Volkswagen convertible, headed to the salon. My thoughts inevitably shift to last night, and I shudder. I’m lucky Slade isn’t a serial killer, or I’d be dead right now. Though with that blood fetish of his, he might just be headed down that road.
As I slow for a red light, my lips tighten. I’m swearing off men for a while. I’ve always been prone to the hot but weird types. My history when it comes to men resembles a soap opera. Slade though, he’s the winner for the creepiest. I think I’ve finally learned my lesson. Sex is fun, but maybe random hookups isn’t the way to go. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a real relationship if I could find a way to trust someone. I’m just not good with opening up to others. I never have been, and I tend to make light of everything so that nothing can become too serious.
I’ve reached the salon, and I pull into the employee parking lot behind the building. Great. Here goes round two.
The lipstick doesn’t completely hide the cut, and I never wear scarves. I did my best to pair the silvery gray scarf with a sequined tank and black, fitted trousers. I’d also chosen my favorite black, high-heeled booties. The outfit is similar enough to what I typically lean towards when it comes to clothing, but anyone that knows me will know the scarf is hiding something.
I brace myself for the upcoming day and slip into the salon through the back door. The salon hasn’t opened yet, and I nearly run into Ash in the hall that leads to the front room.
“There you are. I wanted to…” her voice trails off as her eyes focus on my lip, and then drop to my neck.
“Can we not talk about it here?” I ask lightly.
Her eyes are filling with questions, but she slowly nods. “Okay,” she says softly.
“I’m fine. Really,” I insist.
“We’ll talk later,” she agrees.
“What were you going to tell me?”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
We part ways, and I enter the main room of the salon and go to my booth. I stuff my purse in the small cubby along the wall beneath the mirror and begin preparing for the day.
Three
Colt
After finishing my shift at the prison, I head to the house and go straight to the basement where my room is located. I set my duffle bag on the bed and pull out the uniform I’d worn today. As a correctional officer, my job demands that I wear a uniform. I hate feeling constricted in the necessary attire and equipment I carry with me daily, but it’s part of the job. This career is exactly what I need, and I like that no two days are ever the same. Inmates are unpredictable fuckers, and as much as us officers are there to supervise and maintain order, it’s never that simple.
I toss the uniform on the bed. That was my last clean one, so it looks like today is laundry day. It’s my least favorite thing to do, but it has to be done.
When I hear a quiet knock on the open door, I look up, already knowing it’s Gabe. His car had been the only vehicle in the driveway. His expression is oddly serious, and the dreaded laundry now seems to be the least of my concerns. “Something going on?” I ask.
Gabe hesitates before stepping further into the room. “I wanted to warn you before you see Quinn.”
I should have known Quinn’s the reason for that expression on his face. She’s a magnet for trouble, and I’ve always worried that one day she’s going to get in over her head. I know it’s inevitable, and when it happens, I’ll be there to make certain she doesn’t get hurt.
Gabe shifts his weight where he stands, and I patiently watch as he releases a heavy, resigned sigh. “Last night, things got out of hand with that guy she’s been seeing.”
I inhale deeply, and then gradually exhale as I force myself to remain calm. I need details before I begin imagining the worst. “What do you mean?” I hear myself ask with forced calmness.
Gabe looks like he’s currently wishing he’d never stepped foot inside my room. He rubs the back of his neck before answering my question. “He busted her lip, and she has bruises around her neck.”
Everything within me goes cold, and my eyes burn into Gabe’s. “Come again?” I ask softly.
“She called it ‘foreplay gone wrong.’”
I force myself to remain still even as everything within me demands that I track down the bastard and rip his head off. Abuse of any kind is never okay, but for it to happen to Quinn of all people? It’s hard as shit to accept that. How the fuck did this happen? I’ve been painstakingly aware of her every move since the day I’d accepted her as family. She’s always been naturally independent and a complete smartass. But there’s one thing that makes her vulnerable—her height and build. She’s small and petite. I’ve tried talking her into self-defense courses, but she constantly brushes off the idea. She’s got that damned mentality that nothing bad will ever happen to her.
Gabe’s watching me, bracing for me to go nuclear. My temper has never been well-contained, and I work harder than most to not allow my natural inclinations to take over. He should be worried. The bastard that hurt Quinn, he’s going to pay. I’ll make damned sure of it.
“Explain,” I clip out as I move around the bed to stand in front of him, arms folding over my chest.
“She said things got out of hand. Afterwards, she hit him, and he hit her back,” he says grimly.
“He choked her during sex?” I ask, my voice nothing more than a low growl.
“Yes.”
“Had she agreed to the act?”
Gabe hesitates, looking uncomfortable. “No.”
My lungs feel like they’re shrinking, and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. “Was she raped?” I ask thickly. If the fucker raped her, I’ll kill him. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life in prison for protecting her. I’ll do it in a heartbeat to ensure that she never has to worry about him coming after her again.
“She made it clear that everything was consensual,” Gabe quickly assures.
“But the asphyxiation wasn’t.”
“No,” he agrees.
“And you believe her? That it was consensual?” I snarl, my arms dropping to my sides. This is Quinn we’re talking about here. We need to make certain that she’s giving us the entire truth.
Gabe holds up his hands in warning. “Calm down,” he says as his gray eyes hold mine. “I know you’re pissed, but you need to listen to the facts. She looked me dead in the eye and swore she was a willing participant except for the asphyxiation. That’s not rape, Colt. We both know Quinn. She can’t lie worth shit,” he reminds.
My jaw clenches as I struggle with what he’s telling me. I need to listen to Gabe and let my anger take a backseat. If he says she was telling the truth, then she likely was. She rarely lies, because she has a habit of biting her lip and avoiding eye contact when she’s being untruthful. It’s a dead giveaway.
“You said he left bruises?” I ask in a much calmer tone.
/>
“Yes.”
“Leaving bruises means that it was for himself, and the act had nothing to do with her pleasure.” I’ve never explored the act and don’t care to. I’ve been asked only once by a woman to choke her, and I’d refused. That shit is tricky, especially depending on how far you want to go with it. I’ve never wanted to hurt a woman or do something so damned dangerous—not even for her pleasure.
“I know, and so does Quinn,” Gabe says, replying to my comment. “She punched him afterwards, and that’s when he hit her.”
I’m silent, my gut tightening. It was her birthday last night. While I’d been screwing some random woman, Quinn had been used for some asshole’s twisted fantasy.
“Look, I know you’re angry, but you need to keep in mind that it happened to Quinn, and it was during an intimate act. She didn’t have to share that with me, Colt. She’s a woman, and her emotions are far different than ours. She’s not going to want to rehash it with you, and she’s certainly not going to want you to involve yourself.”
I give him a look that says he might as well be talking to himself, because I’m sure as hell not backing off. “I’ll keep that in mind. Do you have this guy’s name?”
He looks me in the eye. “No.”
“Where did she meet him?” I don’t care what anyone says, I need to have a ‘talk’ with this guy, and when I’m done talking, I’m going to feed him his balls.
“I don’t know, Colt. She’s been tightlipped about him from the very beginning.”
“Would Ash or Harper know?”
He looks at me with resignation. “What are you going to do?”
“What do you think I’m going to do?” I don’t give a shit what Gabe advises, I’m going to handle this my own way.
“Careful, Colt. She’s done with him, and if you become involved, he may take it out on her instead of letting things end. The most important thing is getting him out of her life, not making him pay,” he says pointedly. With that said, he turns and leaves my room—knowing that I’m not going to listen to anything more that he has to say.
There’s no way I’m allowing this to drop. That bastard could have killed Quinn last night.
She’s my kryptonite.
She’s the only woman I’ve ever allowed into my heart, and she’ll likely be the last. I refuse to follow in my father’s footsteps, and I know abuse can follow generations and go down the line. I’d been abused as a child, I’d witnessed abuse, and I’d unfortunately hurt someone because of my fucked-up genes. She was fifteen, and I’ll never forget the surprised and betrayed look in her wide eyes when I’d aggressively shoved her away from me in a fit of anger, causing her to fall to the ground. She hadn’t had time to brace for the fall, and she’d landed badly, breaking her arm in the process.
That darkness that caused my father to kill my mother—it’s inside me. And the only way to make certain that I don’t become my father is to keep that darkness under tight control. I’ve learned that the only way to do that is to never settle down with a woman. Love, it fucking screws with the mind, and if anything’s going to make me go off the rails, it’d be that.
It’s best to remain single.
Besides, I have enough to deal with thanks to Quinn.
Quinn.
Shit.
I know my feelings for her go much deeper than Channing’s and Gabe’s. I consider them both my brothers, but Quinn… There’s always going to be an attraction there, and I’ve never thought of her as just a sister. I think of her as a good friend, someone that has become as important as family—someone that needs protecting.
I need to find out what the hell happened last night.
Four
Quinn
If I could avoid going home, I would. It’s going to be a shit evening, and I’m not in the mood to explain myself to everyone. Ash and Harper are bound to have questions, and I cringe at the thought of Colt asking me about last night. However, avoiding the house will just worsen the situation.
When I pull into the driveway, I spy Colt’s truck parked next to Gabe’s car. His truck looks like it could crush Gabe’s vehicle, and as my eyes run over the large, black truck that’s as badass as its owner, my heart sinks. It’s likely that Gabe’s already explained what went down last night in hopes of calming Colt before he sees me.
I make a face and put my car in park before cutting the engine. I doubt Colt handled the news well. I still remember Tom Anderson trying to do more than kiss me when we were parked in his car at the end of the Thompson’s driveway. I’d been fifteen at the time, and Colt must’ve been watching from the shadows to make certain I’d made it home safely. He’d emerged out of nowhere and had dragged Tom out of the car and had threatened to feed him his testicles if he should ever try to touch me again.
The memory causes a smile to tug on my lips as I climb out of the car. I’d been so pissed at Colt for not allowing me to handle the situation myself, so I’d ignored him for two weeks straight. Not that he’d cared. He’d made certain that all the boys in the school knew that they’d have to deal with him if they so much as looked at me the wrong way. Colt’s always been my protector, and he’d made high school more than a little difficult. Thankfully, by the time I’d followed the guys out here to Riverside after graduation, he’d chilled out quite a bit.
My smile fades as I approach the front door.
Colt’s extremely sensitive when it comes to violence against women and children. For it to happen to me…
He’s going to be livid.
I open the door and step inside, bracing for the upcoming conversation. What I hadn’t expected was for Colt to be sitting on the living room sofa, waiting. I freeze in the midst of crossing the threshold.
He reminds me of a lounging predator waiting for its prey. His legs are splayed, and he looks quite comfortable where he’s sitting, but I know it’s just an illusion. He’s eerily still, and only his eyes move as they lock on my bottom lip, and then they slide down to where the scarf and makeup hide the bruising around my neck. His eyes darken dangerously, and his jaw flexes.
“It’s nothing,” I say lightly before I inwardly wince, wishing I hadn’t spoken at all. That’s the last thing I should have said to Colt of all people.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” He calmly rises to his feet, straightening to his full, impressive height. “I want to talk to you. In private.”
“Okay,” I say softly. He doesn’t move as he waits for me to exit the living room first. I’m assuming he wants to talk down in his room, so I walk through the living room with him following behind.
We make our way through the house, and when we reach the basement door, it’s already open. I go down the carpeted stairwell, Colt’s footfalls heavy behind mine. We bypass the large entertainment room, and I enter the hall. Colt’s door is the first one on the right, and Sebastian’s is down the hall on the left. At the end of the hall is a bathroom that they both share. Colt’s door is wide open, the light on.
I step inside, and my chest tightens. I typically avoid Colt’s bedroom. Plenty of women have seen the inside of this room, but I still can’t resist looking around, taking in the big bed and the black as sin sheets. I yank my eyes from it, and my gaze bounces off the gray walls and all the black accent furniture. On his dresser, three knives rest beside their opened display case, and my eyes immediately lift to the flat, one-inch thick, tree panel that’s attached to the wall. It spans about fifty inches, and there are rings upon rings moving outwards from the center, betraying how old the tree had been when it’d been cut down. Plenty of knife marks mar the beauty of the wood. Colt had an affinity for darts while he’d been growing up, but somewhere along the way, he’d switched to knives.
I turn to look at Colt, and I come up short when I find him standing directly behind me. My head instinctively tilts back so that I can look up into his face. He’s just so damned sexy, and he hadn’t shaved this morning.
His hazel eyes drop to my scarf. “Take it o
ff,” he says softly.
That soft directive causes my lower belly to quiver. I wish he was saying that to me under different circumstances. Somehow, I shove aside the attraction that I’m feeling. “I don’t think I should,” I say steadily.
His eyes burn fiercely into mine. “I need to see, Quinn.”
With a shake of my head, I take a few steps away from him. “All that will do is fuel your anger. We both know that.”
Something dangerous slides across his face. “I can’t possibly be angrier than I already am.”
“Colt, it’s done and over with. It’s been handled, and I will never see him again.”
His eyes remain fixated on my split lip.
He’s not listening to me. I step closer to him and touch his arm. His forearm tenses beneath my fingertips, and his eyes slide up to meet mine. I’m not surprised to see the murderous gleam within those hazel depths. His instinct is to take care of the threat—Slade.
“Hey, I’m okay,” I promise. “I hit him back, so he’s not looking so pretty, either. I handled the situation myself.”
“Was it rape?” he asks through stiff lips, and I find myself held captive under his intense scrutiny.
“Didn’t Gabe tell you?” I ask sharply. That should have been the first thing Gabe addressed.
“I need to hear it from you.”
“It wasn’t rape, Colt.” I stare into his eyes, knowing he needs the reassurance. “I was a willing participant.”
His eyes blaze. “Until he choked you.”
My face heats. I still can’t believe it happened and that everyone’s finding out about my latest mishap. “Until he choked me,” I lamely agree.
He gazes at me silently, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“He’s out of my life,” I tell him.
“I want his name.”
“So that you can what?” I ask. “Beat him up or threaten him? You can’t fix my problems for me, and you can’t fix them with revenge. Let it go, Colt.”
His face twists, and an unknown emotion crosses his face. “He hurt you, Quinn.”
No Going Back (Revolving Door Book 3) Page 3
